


Subject

by Pinky_andthe_Brainmaker



Category: Pinky and the Brain
Genre: Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Lab Mouse Blues, M/M, Stitches, Unethical Experimentation, tsundere Brain
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-24
Updated: 2020-12-24
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:20:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28274481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pinky_andthe_Brainmaker/pseuds/Pinky_andthe_Brainmaker
Summary: One definition of "subject" can be "to cause or force to undergo or endure (something unpleasant, inconvenient, or trying)". Another is "a person as an object of medical, surgical, or psychological treatment or experiment."Both definitions apply to Pinky.
Relationships: Brain/Pinky (Pinky and the Brain)
Comments: 10
Kudos: 140





	Subject

**Author's Note:**

> Somewhat inspired by the works of SylviaW1991 and SkimmingSurfaces.
> 
> There will be light mentions of animal experimentation/vivisection and surgical sutures.

Brain wasn’t in love. He didn’t look up and down Pinky’s body for any reasons related to love and attraction, and the thought was too perverse for him to consider. He was admittedly sentimental about Pinky sometimes, betraying the fact he often hit him and insulted him. It wasn’t that Brain enjoyed Pinky’s company in secret, or that he instinctively protected him whenever he was in any real danger. It wasn’t that he loved Pinky.

Love. The word made him ache, and not in his frigid little heart. He’d been conditioned to shutter away any sign of vulnerability and to eschew weakness in favor of a commandeering persona, as he longed to rule the world as its rightful emperor. He couldn’t show love, much less the slight affection that came with a hug. The problem was that where Brain was a hard and cold shell who suppressed any emotions in fear that he could be seen as weak and helpless, Pinky was so  _ open _ . Open like the day those scientists...

Brain shook his head. He knew Pinky had an almost prodigious knowledge of nursing and first-aid, to the point he was able to procure band-aids from anywhere and able to ease Brain’s aches and wounds. Pinky didn’t know the definition of the word torture, but he knew when Brain was hurting, whether in the physical or mental sense.

Pinky didn’t know when  _ Pinky _ was hurting. His pain tolerance was his superpower, hence why he could handle all the hits to his head and is no worse for the wear. Almost masochistic, Brain thought, that Pinky could handle that much suffering. Unfortunately for him, it meant he was a favorite of the scientists.

Brain didn’t gaze upon Pinky’s lanky, sleeping form for any reasons related to love or a protective instinct. He was simply investigating the uneven groove of fur that ran vertically along his soft belly. A mark that was left-over from an experiment that dared to call itself scientific.

Nearly half a year ago--about half his lifespan, Brain thought--the scientists, in their sterile white coats, pristine blue gloves, and judging eyes, took Pinky. Brain had the mercy to miss most of the “experiment”, but he’d caught glimpses here and there as he gritted his teeth, hands gripping the metal cage bars so tight he could feel them bleed.

Pinky had been anesthetized through the procedure, so he felt nothing and remembered nothing...

Brain had an eidetic memory and was liable to remember the smallest details, and unfortunately the grisliest memories. His heavy, furred eyebrows knotted themselves as he recalled the night after the “experiment”.

  
  
  


_ “Pinky! Pinky?!” _

_ Brain had let himself go, emotional weakness overtaking his logical persona as Pinky was gently lifted back into the cage, drowsy and lopsided. A small thread of gauze was wrapped tightly around his abdomen, faint spots of red lining the middle. His left wrist had been shaved and a needle inserted, now leaving a minor bruise. _

_ “Brain?” Pinky struggled to stand up, limbs like soft putty underneath his lead-heavy body, “What happened? Narf...” His eyelids drooped over his glazed blue eyes. _

_ Brain was relieved that Pinky still had it in him to say his trademark tics, but as he held a hand over his partner’s stomach, he could feel his fur bristling with fury. Would he dare open the gauze and observe what they’d done to Pinky? _

_ “I’m cold, Brain...” Pinky moaned, quivering as he gave up any effort to stand. The worst part of it all was the fact he smiled through everything. “What happened? Did I...drink too much? Poit.” _

_ “If only it were that easy!” Brain spat, taking a deep breath as he noticed Pinky flinch from the outburst. Now, the prospect of letting his emotions out didn’t matter if they made him weak or not, Pinky had just come back from some scientist’s cruel idea of a joke “experiment”, and to say he was less than pleased was an understatement. _

_ Pinky had always been his “nurse” whenever he got injured, now was Brain’s turn to return the favor, but unlike Pinky he had no idea where to start. He wasn’t doting, he wasn’t a nurse.  _

_ For once in his small and insignificant life, he felt stupid. _

_ “I feel funny, Brain.” Pinky’s weak, wavering voice snapped Brain out of his brief trance of self-loathing. _

_ Pinky smiled. Any other time, Brain would have loved to slap the goofy smile off his buck-toothed face, but not this moment. The fact that Pinky continued to give a happy impression of his current status was a testament to his resilience. _

_ “I’m...going to take a look at what happened, Pinky. You need to rest. I will bring a blanket.” _

_ That was Brain’s attempt at being a “nurse”, and to Pinky he must have felt as cold and technical as the scientists, so he cringed. He was able to grab a piece of newspaper off the floor and tucked Pinky into it as a kind of makeshift blanket. The weary mouse snuggled into it, making a soft squeak as he did. Brain thought he could see him mouth the words “thank you”. _

_ He thought ahead. Pinky had been anesthetized, therefore there was no pain during the process, and upon waking up he displayed the side-effects of anesthesia barely wearing off, feeling drowsy, cold, and weak. _

_ Next, he would have to peel off the gauze to inspect the extent of the surgical scar, and braced himself for it; his stomach was not that strong _

_ “Do you require anything more, Pinky, or am I free to...investigate?” _

_ Pinky said nothing, and Brain’s heart stopped for a second before he realized his companion was asleep.  _

_ “You idiot,” he muttered under his breath. “You poor, naive idiot.” _

_ He folded the newspaper piece aside, and with shaky hands touched the gauze on Pinky’s stomach. It wrapped around him, and he knew he didn’t have to take the wrapping off in its entirety, just peel back some of the fabric and... _

_ Brain’s face tinged with pink as he felt his companion’s heartbeat. He closed his eyes for a second and took a deep breath. _

_ Pinky’s stomach was now bare, shaved pink like his namesake. Along the middle, trailing from his chest to groin, was the surgical scar. Brain’s breath hitched, forcing himself to better stomach the sight he dared to gaze upon. The lanky mouse’s scar had been closed up with cellophane-like sutures, so delicate that the scientist who had done this may have as well as tailored a beautiful dress. There was a faint scent of blood and rubbing alcohol. _

_ Brain didn’t have to guess what the scientists did. He knew, being a lab mouse, he knew. Pinky had been cut up and his organs prodded around for what reason? It wasn’t science, it was cruelty and the very reason he’d hoped to take over the world someday. _

_ But tonight the world would have to wait. Pinky was in no condition to go beyond the relative safety of his cage, where Brain would have to teach himself how to nurse his companion. Had one of the sutures come undone... _

_ Brain gagged, a choking noise that prompted a well of tears to flow down his jowls. Pinky may have been an imbecile who more or less deserved a bop to the head to return to reality, but he did not deserve such barbaric acts as this. _

_ He wrapped the gauze back and set the newspaper in its proper place, walked himself into a corner, and waited for morning. The scientists wouldn’t care. _

“Brain, are you awake?”

The memory fizzled and imploded upon itself as Brain’s ears perked up to Pinky’s tired voice, his droopy eyelids and lopsided smile hearkening back to that image of him in his fatigued, anesthetized daze.

“Yes, Pinky. I’m falling asleep with my eyes wide open.” Brain turned his head away, voice dripping with venomous sarcasm. “What made you awaken? Dreams of cheesecake?”

Pinky’s lopsided smile grew more so, and he let out a faint “narf!”, before continuing, “You really should go beddy-bye, though. You look extinguished!”

“Exhausted, Pinky,” Brain corrected him. He hated it when Pinky was right, but Brain had very little sleep the past few weeks, the natural dark shadows under his eyes growing darker. It’d gotten so bad that Pinky compared him to a raccoon, and although Brain knew he wasn’t insulting, he found it very humiliating.

His sleep deprivation had nothing to do with his obsession with taking over the world, of course. He didn’t have any issues with obsession. He wasn’t...desperate.

But he was very, very tired. Extinguished, as Pinky put it.

“Pinky,” he succumbed to his concerns, “Do you know what happened half a year ago?”

Pinky blinked with the energy equivalent of a dying car, one eyelid closing sooner than the other, and guessed, “Your birthday? I remember it, I think. Poit!”

_ He really doesn’t remember _ , Brain thought. The innocence of it all.

“Yes, Pinky...” Brain glanced at the uneven groove along Pinky’s stomach, “My birthday.”

Brain’s face went red-hot and his fur bristled as he felt Pinky scoop him up into a hug as big as his little arms could make it, purring with almost catlike quality as he rubbed his cheek against his best friend’s oversized cranium.

“It was a great birthday! The best birthday for my bestest friend!” Pinky purred. Brain allowed himself to relax, and with much hesitance he returned the hug, feeling where the surgical scar now lay obscured underneath the fur.

Brain felt his heartbeat too, fast and fluttering as it should be, and hopefully always will. The scientists may have fooled around with Pinky’s organs, but they wouldn’t dare touch his heart, which was as big as Brain’s head was.

He whispered underneath his breath, at a volume he hoped Pinky wouldn’t register, “It should have been me.”

But Pinky heard through his sensitive ears, and responded in his most loving voice,

“I love you too, Brain.”


End file.
